


The Siren

by Rigil



Category: Original Work
Genre: AU, M/M, Maritime, diary entries, sailors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigil/pseuds/Rigil
Summary: The diary of a sailor known simply as I.v.H. has been found after his disappearance. His entries tell a tale of his recent days in Sicily, and may tell of how he disappeared.





	

July 12. We've been sailing for weeks, on the ship Enigma, of which I am second mate. Captain Beauregard has elected me that position out of bias, however I do not complain. We are merchants, selling cargo, about 12 crates of indigo and oak. We've set course to Guam, to a small port. They are in dire need of some house-building materials, and luckily there was a supply in Nice. Oftentimes, I and the first mate will check the timber, for any termites. We've set our course due east, around the Cape of Good Hope. We will stop there by the eighth of August. After this, the captain has given me permission to take a leave of absence to see my family in Berlin. I miss them so, my brothers and my mother. I pray for their safety whilst I am away. -I.v.H.

July 14. Two days, and we've taken a detour. Foul winds have hit the Cape, and a request from Sicily was given as we set port in Madrid. We shall sail there, give them about 5 crates of mahogany, and set out again for the Cape after the storm has left. Spain can't be too far from Germany, perhaps the Captain will let me write home... -I.v.H.

July 20. It has been a while since I have written in my journal. We've set in Sicily, and I've noticed a great many rocks. Jagged and salt-covered. I cannot imagine how many ships exactly have met their end on those rocks. I shudder to think of it. Captain Beauregard has said that thoughts of a sinking will bring one, so it is good I only have fear on the land. -I.v.H

July 21. It is so late, and my candle is flickering. I cannot sleep due to a lovely voice beckoning me. It is soft, as the breath of woman, but firm, as the grip of man. I cannot rest to hear that voice. I believe, since the town is at rest, I may be able to investigate this voice. I shall continue my writing after I find the source. -I.v.H.

July 22. It seems there is a person, dark-skinned, laying upon the jagged rocks, their hands folded over the point. They sing a song of meaningless words, vocal practice. I wish to meet this person, and make acquaintance. Their voice is lovely. -I.v.H.

July 23. Our vacation seems to be delayed ever further. The foul winds have become hurricane, so we are stuck here, in Sicily. I believe it means more time to discover that voice. I have questioned the locals of the voice. They speak of the Siren. I have heard of these succubi, these women of the deep. They bring sailors down to the depths, to their deaths. I fear I am succumbing to the succubus' song. However, I cannot ignore it. Tonight, I row to the rocks. -I.v.H.

July 23. I am fearful as I write these words. I have rented a boat from a local fisherman, and have sailed to the Siren's rock. The seas are still. I see the Siren above me, singing their meaningless song. I will call out to the Siren, hopefully I shall converse with them. If I do not write again, I have drowned. -I.v.H.

August 2. I have not written in over a week. The Siren has taken me to his lovely world. I have learned his name (Marcus, how lovely it is), and I have not left his rock for a time. He brings me meals of fish from the deep, letting them roast in the radiating sun. I believe I, like many other sailors, have fallen to the song of the Siren. But, what do I care? I have also noticed that the Enigma is preparing to leave. Marcus has given me a bewitched amulet, a teardrop sapphire, and has told me it will let be breathe in the sea. I have tested it, and he tells the truth. Its magic is truly strange, as it works at all times, even on the surface. As long as there is liquid with water in it, I may breathe it. Curiouser and curiouser. I hope the Enigma will remember me. -I.v.H.

August 3. We have set sail from Sicily and are on our way back to Nice. Our order has been cancelled, so we must wait until someone else wants indigo or oak. How unfortunate. But I have noticed a strange occurrence. At night, when even the lookout has fell to rest, and I stay up to watch the sky, I have heard a song. Marcus has been following us. It is hard to see his dark skin against the black sea, but when he swims to the moonlit side, I can see him in his glory. Naked and soaked in the sea, he reaches over the edge of the ship, and speaks to me. He has taught me how to cook fish like he; heat the metal grill, and let the fish heat upon it. I shall try it in the day, when the sailors are hungered. Marcus has invited me to join him in the sea. He has said the magic of the amulet will exist for ever, so I am considering the offer. It is currently night, and I am waiting on the moonlit side to watch my lovely rise from the deep, kelp adorning his dark locks, and hold me in embrace. I have always loved the scent of the sea. -I.v.H.

August 4. I have had coitus with Marcus. He explained to me that Sirens can survive for a while outside the deep, and wanted to experience it. I have been in bliss all day, staring at the deep. The other crewmates say I am lazy, but Captain Beauregard says it is the chord of love which has been struck. He is correct, no matter how my crewmates laugh. I want ever so much to enter the sea and be with Marcus, but as he is only watching in day, I will allow him a gift of me. After I finish this entry, I will begin work on a sculpture. But of what... -I.v.H.

August 6. We've set in Nice again. Marcus still waits over the edge of the ship. I love the way he looks in the evening light, his dark skin against the bright rays of sun... a great contrast to myself. I am pale as marble, but he, dark as the shadowed sea. I wish I could finish my creation faster. It is a small starfish. I am crafting it from a chip of oak. Does oak rot in the sea? -I.v.H.

August 7. I have finally finished work on my starfish. Marcus was extremely pleased. He smiled and laughed greatly, so giddy with glee that he did loops in the sea. Oh, how I wish there was water-proof ink! Oh, how I wish to continue my entries down below! -I.v.H.

August 9. Marcus has made a water-proof journal, with ink to write more. I will leave this journal up above, for my colleagues to know where I have gone. To Captain Beauregard; Thank you, greatly. To my brothers, mother, and father in Berlin; Do not think I am gone for ever. I will bring my love and I to the shores of Denmark, and with a short journey, you may visit us. However, as the seas are cold in Denmark, we shall remain more south. In Sicily. I will leave my clothing ashore, for Marcus says there is no need for it in the deep. All I must wear is the amulet, and the sea cannot kill me with its watery breath. I will miss my family greatly, but this is not an eternal goodbye. I fare all I know well, be you friend or foe. Farewell, surface of the world! Farewell, my crewmates! Farewell! -I.v.H.


End file.
